


There Was a Time

by FettsOnTop (GTFF)



Series: Meeting Like This [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, read Meeting Like This first or you will be so confused!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTFF/pseuds/FettsOnTop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots, short fics, drabbles, future fics and missing scenes based on my Fett/Leia story Meeting Like This. Some of them were ideas I had that I couldn't fit into MLT, others are simply explorations of what their life together might have been like. I welcome your feedback, and your suggestions for future chapters. As always, thank you for indulging me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. when they couldn't keep it quiet any longer

 

**There was a time...when they couldn't keep keep it quiet any longer**

 

“Homemade grenades,” Mon Mothma observed with approval. “Wherever did you learn to make them, Leia?”

“On Hoth, actually.” Leia tore a strip of cloth from her pale blue silk gown and stuffed into the narrow neck of a ceramic bulb vase as a stopper. “The pilots used to dip salvage pieces in tar and then make a firestarter out of oil and alcohol. If you put it a duracrete barrel, it would provide heat for almost six hours.” She turned and carefully handed the bomb to Pooja Naberrie, Senator from Naboo and her biological cousin. “But if you put it in a glass vessel, it’s a bomb.”

“Thank you,” Pooja said warily. “I think.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank whoever decided to put oil lamps in this room. Klo, how’s the rope coming?”

“I’m not sure I see the wisdom in this,” Senator Klo Kreebe grumbled. His cybernetic eye flickered rapidly as he tied on the final drapery. “Security forces have been called. We should wait here for them.”

“We can’t assume that they can get to the third floor.” There was a muffled shriek of blaster fire, and everyone turned their attention back to the makeshift barricade blocking the doors. The conference room table, two sideboards and three shelves were made out of polished plasteel, another lucky break. But it wouldn’t hold forever.

This was supposed to be a private conference at the Coral City retreat center to discuss the fact that Leia had been nominated to serve as Vice Chair in the Senate. The representatives would vote at the end of the final quarter, so they had barely a week to speculate on the voting breakdown and develop strategies. At the moment, however, there was the more pressing concern of the Noghri who tracked them to the Mon Calamari homeworld.

The first attack came out of nowhere, four armed Noghri stormed into the room, blasted the communications panel and demanded that Leia surrender herself. They weren’t expecting her to be armed, and that alone saved her. Her triumph was short-lived when she realized they hadn’t come alone. Kreebe used his cybernetic implant to contact security, but Leia wasn’t holding her breath for their arrival.

She keyed in a distress call of her own from her commlink before she shut it down so the Noghri couldn’t find her by sweeping for signals. She had no idea where her husband was currently. Luke, thank the Force, had Jonah and Kyd with him for the weekend, so at least her four-year old sons were safe. It was up to her to ensure that their mother returned to pick them up as promised. Leia took a deep, steadying breath and hefted the final homemade bomb as she turned grimly toward the barricade. “Ready?”

Mon Mothma took her place on one side of the upended table and Kreebe took the other. At Leia’s nod, they leveraged it against a sideboard, creating a narrow opening at the top. Almost at once the blaster fire resumed, breaking through the top of the wooden doors and scorching the ceiling. Leia took a steadying breath and threw the grenade. It sailed through the jagged hole and crashed down out of sight in the hallway.

There were scuffling noises, then silence. Then the explosion.

“Go, go!” Leia gestured wildly as they ran for the windows. Kreebe’s crude rope tumbled into the courtyard below. She went first, since was the only one with a blaster. The courtyard was empty, tall white pillars standing guard on either side of sea stone path. Pooja came down the rope next, her grenade tucked securely in her sash. Mon Mothma descended a few seconds later, her pale skin flushed and her breathing labored. Kreebe was about halfway down the rope when the doors at the southern end of the courtyard burst open and Noghri began to pour through.

“The north side! Go!” Leia took shelter behind a pillar and provided cover fire while Pooja and Mon Mothma ran for the opposite entrance.

Kreebe dropped to the ground beside her, his hand grasping frantically at her arm. “We’ll never make it!”

“Oh yes we will.” Leia swung around the pillar and fired repeatedly. Three Noghri fell to the ground while Kreebe ran for cover, but there were still too many of them of coming through. She was forced to retreat, using the pillars for cover. A blaster bolt hit the smooth white stone, only inches from her head, but it didn’t leave much of a mark. A stun bolt. They wanted her alive.

“Leia!” Pooja screamed. “Run for it!”

She saw her cousin, standing brazenly out the open with her grenade held above her head. She flung it at at the south end of the courtyard, the glass shattered and Leia ran as fast she could for the doors. She made it just before the explosion, hot, foul smelling air rushed down the corridor as they all raced down the hall. They took shelter in another conference room, but it wasn’t as well furnished as the one on the second floor.

“What do we do now?” Mon Mothma asked, and open-ended question that no one really had an answer to.

“The lift to the docking bay is at the south end of the courtyard,” Pooja reminded them. “Maybe the bomb got them all, maybe-”

“There could be more at the docking bay,” Leia said, trying to catch her breath. “They have to be coming from somewhere.”

“It would be exceptionally helpful,” Mon said thoughtfully, “if we knew what they were after.”

“Senator Organa,” Kreebe spoke up. “Forgive me for not bringing this to your attention before...but there have been rumors that a bounty has recently been offered for your capture.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said wryly.

“No...but...Noghri are mercenary creatures, are they not? Its possible that they’re working for someone.”

“I suppose so.” Leia checked her blaster. It was a small weapon, and the charges couldn’t hold out for much longer.

“As I’m sure you are aware, I have many sources throughout the galaxy, fellow borgs who gather information in the cantinas and cafes all across the star systems. Last week a source brought me disturbing news, but I admit I didn’t give it much weight at the time. You are so adored, Senator, by your people and by your friends in the core, it was unthinkable-”

“What news?” Leia cut him off, and the cyborg had the nerve to look wounded.

“Klo, we don’t have time for speeches,” Mon Mothma reminded him gently. “If you have information that could help us, please share it.”

Kreebe nodded, and licked his lips. “The source said that a bounty hunter has been contracted to remove you by any means necessary. They say he’s the best. The ‘top of the food chain,’ if you will.”

Leia stared at him. He was sweating profusely, but so was she. “Did your source tell you his name?”

“Boba Fett.”

She almost laughed. As welcome as the break in tension would have been, the sobering realization soon followed that either Kreebe’s sources were lying...or Kreebe himself was. The cyborg had served nearly four terms in the senate, two before the Imperial dissolvement and two since. He was known as “Senator Coat Tails” among the pages and interns, and Leia had no delusions about his loyalty, but what reason would he have to concoct such a lie? And why was he sharing this information now?

“Wait a minute,” Mon Mothma frowned. “I feel I’ve heard that name before. That’s not the same bounty hunter that froze Captain Solo in carbonite? The one you spent months chasing all over the galaxy?”

“I think the carbonite was Vader’s idea,” she replied vaguely, rubbing at a nonexistent spot on the grip of the blaster. “But yes, it’s the same man.”

“Then it is possible that this bounty hunter might be holding a grudge.”

Leia took a deep breath. “That was never about me. Jabba the Hutt put a price on Han’s head, and Fett collected. Besides, that was nearly eight years ago.” She edged out into the doorway and took a quick peek around the corner. The corridor was empty, the doors to the courtyard still hanging open. She could smell the remnants of the grenade, but she could see nothing beyond the doors. “I think we should check the courtyard. If they are coming up the docking bay lift, maybe we can rig up some sort of trap.”

“Agreed,” Mon Mothma said.

They edged slowly out into the hallway, but Pooja caught Leia’s arm and held her back a few steps. “There’s something I have to tell you about this Fett business.”

Leia suppressed a sigh. “Can it wait? We’ve got our hands full of danger at the moment.”

“That’s why I have to tell you now. If something happens to me...I don’t know who else could warn you.” Her cousin hugged tight to her side, speaking in a low voice. “I was only a child when Padme died, but it wasn’t my first funeral. Two years earlier, there was an assassination attempt, and Padme’s friend and bodyguard Corde died in her place.” Pooja shook her head. “Corde was a lovely person, always so kind. Her death was very hard for all of us.”

There was a sinking feeling in Leia’s stomach. “I’ve heard a little about it.”

“Master Kenobi tracked the attack to a bounty hunter called Jango Fett. It was while he was investigating this bounty hunter that he discovered the cloning facility on Kamino. Jango Fett was their genetic template, you see. Master Kenobi said he kept one of the clones for himself, and treated him like a son.”

“That’s very interesting, but I still don’t see-”

“Don’t you? It must be Boba Fett. Jango Fett tried and failed to murder your mother and now his clone is coming after you.”

“Pooja, no, he isn’t.”

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss it. Stranger things have happened in this galaxy.”

Kreebe fell back beside them. “This bounty hunter is feared far and wide across the Outer Rim. They say he never fails to bring back his quarry, dead or alive. He cannot be bought, bargained or reasoned with.”

“Yes. Well, reputation is everything in his trade.” Leia replied, then added weakly, “or so I’ve heard.”

“It does seem that there are too many connections for the theory to be ignored,” Mon Mothma said reasonably. “We must take any threats to your safety very seriously from now on.”

“Yes,” said Kreebe sadly. “If anything happened to you…we would carry on your legacy of course, but every step would be agony.”

Leia stared at the cyborg for a few seconds, wondering if her sense of immediate danger was making her see things. “Does it seem strange to any of you that we haven’t seen any security personnel?”

Kreebe’s cybernetic eye blinked. “I sent the distress call. Perhaps the Noghri have cut communications.”

“They must have,” Leia agreed without taking her eyes off of him. “In fact. I’ve changed my mind. We should double back and head to the security station.” She turned decisively and started walking back down the hall. Mothma and Pooja were quick to follow, Kreebe was not.

“B-but Senator, we’re so close. The courtyard is just here-” He scrambled toward the doors, still partially ajar.

“No!” Leia barely had time to bring her blaster up as he flung the doors open.

The courtyard was empty except for the charred and smoking bodies Pooja’s grenade had left behind. Kreebe was cowering in the corner, but after a moment he dropped his arms and stared out the door, his cybernetic eye blinking wildly.

“There’s the southern entrance” Mon Mothma pointed across the yard. “The path is clear. I think we have to risk it.”

They moved slowly out into the courtyard. The smooth sea stones were scorched black from the explosion, the white pillars stained with gray.

“What a terrible ordeal,” Kreebe muttered. “And it’s far from over. Mark my words, Senator. This only the beginning. With this bounty hunter after you-”

“ _Enough_.” Leia was at the end of her patience, her nerves on edge. “Boba Fett is _not_ hunting me. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mon Mothma asked with a slight frown.

“I-”

“Wait. Do you hear that?” Pooja pointed toward the opposite end of the courtyard where the doors to the lift waited. They all froze. “Blasters! It must be security!”

Leia quickly looked to Kreebe, but the cyborg was backing away, his natural eye wide.

The doors splintered outward, and they all ducked for cover as the partially dismembered corpse of a Nogari burst through, propelled by the jet pack of the armored man using him as a shield. Boba Fett landed on one knee, holding the bloody body up with his left arm. His infrared sensor was down, his rifle ready.

For a few airless seconds no one moved. Fett slowly stood, and dropped the Noghri corpse. It made a sound like wet meat when it hit the stones. His armor was splattered with blood and gore, a fresh scratch across his breastplate from a Noghri pike. He looked like a nightmare in human form, and Leia was sure she had never been so happy to see someone in her life.

She shook herself free from Pooja’s grasp and ran to her husband, barely hearing her cousin’s cry of alarm. She threw her arms around Fett’s neck. “Have I ever told you that your reliability is one of your most attractive qualities?”

He was breathing hard, something she was only aware of because she was pressed so tightly against him. “Your friends are staring.”

“I don’t care.”

He put his hand on her back, taking in the burnt bodies around them. “Kuati cocktails,” he noted approvingly.

“More or less.” She reluctantly let go and turned around to face the others. She always knew this day would come, although she never envisioned it happening quite like this. Pooja’s face was as white as snow, and Mon Mothma seemed numb with shock. Kreebe still looked terrified.

“Chancellor Mon Mothma, Senator Pooja Naberrie, Senator Klo Kreebe...this is my husband. Boba Fett.”

The only sound that could be heard was the slow drip of blood from Fett’s wrist gauntlet to the stone path.

Mon Mothma regained her ability to speak first. “But…That’s not...We’ve spoken about your husband many times. _Many_ times. You told me…” She stopped abruptly and shook her head in disbelief. “Everything but his name. I knew he was a bounty hunter. Now that I think about it, you even told me that used to work for the Empire.”

“I didn’t want to lie about it,” Leia said quietly. “I promised myself I wouldn’t. To be honest, I never expected to get away with it for this long.”

“Yes, well. You were quite masterfully evasive.”

Pooja folded her arms over her chest and hugged herself, her lips a thin line. “No wonder you never brought him to Naboo to meet the rest of your family.”

“The Mandalorians have a saying,” she returned with a sharp note of warning in her voice. “‘Family is more than blood.’”

Kreebe was beginning to recover. “T-this is...this will be quite a scandal. Even if you never lied...it will still reflect badly on you, being married to a...man of his...class.”

Leia ignored him and turned back to Fett. “That reminds me, did you see any security forces on your way in?”

“They’re still sitting on their asses in the security center. The Noghri looped the holocam feeds.”

“Did they cut off communications to the center?”

“No. That would have set off the system alarms.”

Mon Mothma seemed to be catching on. “Senator Kreebe…you said you were able to get a distress call in to the center. You said it was confirmed.”

“I did...I mean I thought I did.” Kreebe drew himself up, but his voice wavered. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Chancellor.”

Leia put a hand on her hip and stared icily at the cyborg. “He also had the nerve to tell me that there was bounty on my head, and that you had been contracted to kill me.”

Fett turned his head just slightly, aiming the t-shaped visor toward the cyborg. He spoke in a flat monotone. “Is that so.”

Kreebe swallowed visibly. “My sources-”

“We’ll need to talk about these _sources_ ,” Leia cut him off. “It’s one thing to try to scare me into backing away from the Vice Chair nomination, but to hire an entire squad of Noghri assassins seems like overkill.”

“Y-uou can’t possibly think that I had anything to do with this. I’m a member of the Galactic Senate!”

“I don’t think he’s the client,” Fett said flatly. “But they might have the same employer. I found a holorecording on one of their bodies. The encryption is high-grade Imperial.”

“The resurgence,” Leia acknowledged with a grimace. “Why would they come after me now?”

“We have a number of excellent decryptionists in Coruscant,” Mon Mothma offered. “I’m sure they can crack the recording.”

“They can have it when I’m done with it,” Fett replied shortly. Leia gave him a look, and he tilted his head in a meager concession toward politeness, “...Chancellor.”

To Leia’s relief, her friend looked amused. “You’ve done the Republic a great service by helping to uncover this conspiracy, Master Fett. Not to mention your very…” her eyes strayed back to the bloody Noghri corpse on the ground, “...effective rescue tactics. You should be rewarded for your efforts. I don’t suppose you’d like a medal?”

“No,” they answered at the same time. Leia covered her mouth, her cheeks warm. Fett continued without hesitation. “If you want to reward me, my preference is credits.”

“That’s a shame,” Mon Mothma replied congenially. “Although not much of a surprise. I do love a good award ceremony, and they make such marvelous holos for the press.”

The last thing Leia wanted to do was invite speculation on her taste in men or gods forbid, comparison, by duplicating the award ceremony on Yavin IV. “As much as we appreciate the thought,” she offered diplomatically. “It’s out of the question.”

Fett shifted at her side. “My interest in the affairs of the Republic extends as far as Leia’s safety, and no further. In my business, it’s better not to be seen as taking sides.”

Mon Mothma arched an eyebrow at him. “Is this a recent stance? Your previous service to the Empire would indicate otherwise.”

He was silent for a moment. “I took jobs posted by Darth Vader and other imperial agents because I knew they could pay. If you want my services, make an offer.”

“I see,” the chancellor replied thoughtfully. “Is it necessary to post such an offer on the galactic network, or may I make the offer to you in person?”

“Go ahead.”

“Once we land in Coruscant, Senator Kreebe will be placed under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy and possibly treason.”

“Mon Mothma-” The cyborg protested, but she silenced him with a sharp gesture, an ability that Leia had always envied. “I would like to ensure that he makes that appointment, and I feel certain you have the facilities aboard your ship to transport him.”

“I do,” Fett turned slightly toward the cyborg. “Under the circumstances, it would be my pleasure.”

Kreebe made a soft, choking sound.

“I don’t ask you to do it out of pleasure,” Mon Mothma continued in a level tone.“The Republic will pay for your time and service. I trust that he will be safely delivered into custody.”

“As you wish, Chancellor.” Fett unhooked a pair of binders from his belt and threw them at Kreebe, who let them clatter to the ground. “Put them on,” Fett said in the cold monotone he reserved especially for his cargo. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

The cyborg slowly bent to retrieve them, his face drawn and gray. “Mon, please...we’ve been colleagues for seven years…”

“And as your colleague of seven years, I advise you to say nothing without your legal advisor present. You will have your chance to explain yourself in court.” Mon Mothma turned and started towards the south gate, offering an aside to Leia as she passed. “I still think an award ceremony would have been brilliant.”

Leia shook her head as she followed with Pooja. Fett nudged Kreebe with his rifle and the cyborg stumbled after them as they stepped over a charred Noghri corpse. “Why don’t you get a medal?” Her husband asked bluntly. “Half these bodies are yours.”

“Actually, these are Poojas. The ones on the third floor are mine, not that I’ll ever say so on the record. It’s not very senator-like to throw grenades.”

“Sadly not,” her cousin agreed. After a pause, she spoke again. “We could just all agree to keep quiet about it. About-” her eyes cut between Leia and Fett. “No one else has to know.”

Kreebe looked up eagerly, sensing a bargaining chip. “I would be more than happy to come an agreement-”

“Silence,” Fett growled.

“No,” Leia replied slowly. “If I ask you to keep quiet now then I’m involving you in a cover up, and it’s ticking time bomb from there on out. Boba?”

“I know what I signed up for.”

“Thank you,” she said with sincerity, resisting the impulse to stand on her toes and kiss the side of his helmet. He gave a slight nod and moved past her to guide Kreebe to the lift. Pooja hesitated, something clearly on her mind.

“Leia, I don’t know if I can-”

Leia cut her off. “When we first found out that we were cousins, you told me that you didn’t care who my father was. You said we would always be family. Boba and our sons are my family, and anyone who claims me as family claims them as well.”

Her cousin gave her pained look. “They’ll never elect you to the Vice Chair position if you go public with this.”

“Maybe not this time,” Leia acknowledged. “But the galaxy is changing, Pooja. The outer rim systems have more influence than they ever had in the old Republic. The day might come when the old guard stops setting the standards for the rest of us. And then it might not be such a scandal to be a bounty hunter’s wife.”

“Ladies,” Mon Mothma called. “We should be going.”

Leia lifted her skirts to step into the lift, and Pooja eyed her gown wryly as she stepped in next to her. “That dress is ruined.”

She looked down at the rich blue silk, the hem torn and filthy, the front stained with blood. She glanced over at Fett, who was busy minding his prisoner and her lips curved into a smile. “I never liked it anyway.”

 


	2. When Kyd was adopted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll be home in time for dinner," his wife said, and here he was.

**When Kyd was adopted**

 

“This is all of it,” the young Mandalorian Protector grunted as he picked up the final crate of glitterstim spice.

“Dump it with the rest.” Fett took a last look around the squalid shack, the home of four spice smugglers with the poor judgement to think they could escape notice on Concordia.

Their bodies were already bagged and laid outside. Two men, two women. They died in a matter of minutes. Fenn Shysa’s new law enforcers did their job well enough, his assistance was not required. He was here at the  _Mand’alor’_ s behest, something about boosting recruitment. Had he asked Fett directly, the answer would have been an immediate “no,” but of course Shysa was too smart for that. He made his request through Leia.

“You’ll be home in time for dinner,” his wife said, and here he was. It was important that he was home for dinner, because this was the date Leia had designated several years ago as his “birthday.” He tried pointing out that the name implied a biological function inapplicable to his situation, but it didn’t seem to matter.

The result of this was that there would be bantha steaks for dinner, flown in, prepared and delivered by a local chef. There would be  _uj_  cake, and after everything was cleaned up and Jonah was put to bed, there would birthday sex. Birthday sex meant he could have anything he wanted (“Anything?” He’d asked, skeptical. “Anything,” she insisted. “Try me.”). It was an opportunity he always gave full consideration to.

“Fett.” His attention snapped over to the Protector waiting at the door. “Charges are set to blow.”

“Body disposal?”

“Frever and Olen will take care of it.”

“And the spice?”

“I’ll see it dumped in the sewer with the rest of the osik.” He hesitated. “We’re all off to Treetop Village after this for a pint. You interested?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He turned and left. Fett thought his armor looked familiar. One of Skirata’s men, maybe. He started to follow him out, but something stopped him.

Some noise, barely more than an inhalation. A sniffle. He shifted his rifle into the crook of his elbow and lowered his infrared sight. Had they missed someone? And if so,  _kriffing_  how?

There were no heat signatures on his display large enough to be human. In the corner was a battered case giving off glow. An animal maybe? A pet?

Carefully he moved closer, lifting his rifle up to his shoulder with one arm. His footsteps were silent on the duracrete floor. He put his fingers under the lid of the crate and flipped it up in one swift motion, sighting down the barrell at-

A child.

A human boy. Two years old, or maybe three. Jonah would be three in less than a month, but he was a solid, healthy boy. This child was obviously starved, his ribs could seen through his skin. He was wearing a crude diaper that obviously had not been changed in some time, and a fetid stench rose out of the crate.

He looked up at Fett, not the barrell of his rifle. There was no fear in his eyes, no protest. He would accept whatever came next. He knew nothing else.

 

* * *

 

Leia was on her knees in the kitchen, grimacing as she pulled another slimy strand of algae from her son’s hair. “My  _gods_ ,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust. Jonah imitated the gesture, sending droplets of muddy water flying from his dark curls.

“Stop that,” Leia snapped. “Hold still.”

She heard the front door open and close. “There you are,” she called, wiping her hands on her pants. “Wait until you see what your son has gotten into this time. I swear-”

“Da!” Jonah wiggled free from her grasp and took off. “I went inna fish pond!” He skidded to a stop as Fett came around the corner, his delight becoming confusion when he saw that his father’s arms were occupied.

“What-” Leia started to ask, then stopped, staring in shock at the skinny, filthy little boy wrapped in a ragged blanket. “Sit down,” she said, her feet moving before she even knew what she was doing. She took a tray of gelatin cubes from the cupboard and put four on a plate. Fett sat at the table, holding the boy in his lap. Jonah hovered nearby with an expression of disapproval.

“Da. Pick me up.”

“Jonah,” Leia scolded. “Just wait a minute.” She set the plate down in front of their visitor. The boy stared at them but didn’t move. “Look,” she coaxed, poking a cube with her finger and making it tremble. “Isn’t that funny? It’s okay, they’re for you.” She picked one up and bit the corner off. “Yummy. Go ahead.” This time when she held it out, he took it and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Mama, I want some. I’m hungry,” Jonah complained, rubbing his belly dramatically.

“No, you’re not.” Leia watched grimly as the boy stuffed the next cube in whole, and then gathered the last two in his fists and held them tight against his naked chest. “Where did he come from?”

“I found him in a crate at the compound.”

She lowered her voice, carefully avoiding the word “mother” or “smuggler” in case the boy understood. “One of theirs…?”

“Maybe. Dead now, anyway.”

“Does he talk?”

“Don’t know. He hasn’t said anything so far.”

There was an awful sour smell that surrounded him, and an angry red rash climbing up his belly and back. Leia straightened. “There’s a bath ready in the ‘fresher. I’ll find him some clothes.”

Her steps were slow. It weighed heavily on her, the knowledge that anyone could treat a small child with such disregard. What would happen to him now?

Mandalorians had a long and honored tradition of adoption, but only within their own culture. This boy was  _auretti_ , an outsider. She supposed the medical center in Keldabe would do what they could for him before sending him back to his system of origin. Given the profession of his parents, it wasn’t likely to be a nice place.

She pulled out a few items of clothing out of Jonah’s closet, her eyes falling on the stuffed Ewok toy that had been a gift from her good friend Winter the last time she had Jonah in Coruscant with her. “I think I had a stuffed baby Ewok when I was young,” Leia had mused.

“So did I,” Fett offered. “Only it was an actual stuffed one.” Thankfully Winter had laughed.

She often worried about her son, who spent most of his time bouncing back and forth between Keldabe and Coruscant. How would he ever make friends or have any sort of normal life? It reminded her of how lonely her own childhood was, before Winter became part of the Organa family. They didn’t see each other often as adults, but they would always have that bond.

Leia looked down at the clothes in her hands. Of course they couldn’t. She was crazy for even considering it.

She started to retrace her steps to the ‘fresher, stopping to get a clean towel out of the hall closet. Through the open door she could see the tattered blanket on the floor, and Fett kneeling beside the tub as he lowered the boy into the water. Jonah pressed against his arm, pulling at his shoulder guard. “Pick me up, Da.” Fett put his arm around him and lifted their son onto his knee. Jonah cast a suspicious look toward their guest. “ _My_  Da,” he said sternly.

“Your Da,” Fett agreed. He pointed to the boy in the tub. “Your brother. _Gar vod_.”

Leia fumbled the towel and almost dropped it, sure she must have heard wrong.

“Gar-vod,” Jonah tried, his anger becoming fascination. “My brother.” He slid off of Fett’s knee and picked up a bath sponge, leaning over the edge of the tub with a determined expression. “Wash him. Wash my brother.” The boy edged back warily, his arms wrapped around his bony knees. Fett sat back into a crouch and removed his helmet, setting it on the floor beside him.

Leia moved slowly to the doorway, mindful of their audience but unable to keep the tension completely out of her voice. “You don’t think you should have asked me first?”

There was a split second of hesitation before he looked up at her. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

She didn’t want to fight in front of Jonah, so she held up her hand and crooked her index finger, her voice artificially pleasant. “Could I speak to you in the hallway, please?”

He stood and followed her slowly out of the ‘fresher, leaving the door open. “You’re angry.”

“Oh, do you think?” She replied bitingly.

“You were adopted,” he said. “You’ve spoken favorably about it in the past. And since it’s unlikely that we’ll have more biological offspring-”

“That’s not why I’m angry.” He was silent, concentrating hard on her face as if there was a puzzle there he could unlock. “I want to know why, Boba.”

“His people died by my order. It’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m sure you’ve made orphans before,” she said grimly, her fingers knotting together. “I’m glad you rescued him, I really am. But you made up your mind to do this without even asking me what I think, and that makes me wonder…” It hit her then, with such devastating force that she sagged back against the wall. “Oh  _no_.”

“Leia?”

“You found yourself another son. One that could never grow up to be a Jedi.”

Fett moved closer, finding and holding her gaze. “Jonah is my son. I would never try to replace him.”

She wanted to believe him. She really, really did.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly, and for the second time she found herself staring dumbly at him in shock.

“What did you say?”

“I’m sorry.” If he was aware that he’d never said those words to her before, his face didn’t show it. “I should have asked you. He needs a family, and I want to adopt him. Will you consider it?”

There was a splash that made them both jump and hurry back to the ‘fresher. Jonah was sitting in the tub now, clothes and all. He laughed and smacked his hands down on the water. “Bath time,” he said, thrusting the sponge out towards the boy. Leia quickly intercepted it.

“Back off,” she told her son. The boy hadn’t moved an inch, but he stared up at her with wide green eyes. She thought his hair might be red under the mats and tangles. “Hey there,” she said gently. “Can you tell us your name?”

He stared at her blankly, so she tried the question again in Mando’a. Still no response. She brushed the sponge gently over the back of his hand. “Does that feel soft? Would you like to hold it?” Slowly his hand uncurled and wrapped around the sponge. He tried to put it in his mouth. “No, no,” Leia chided, smiling in spite of herself. “That’s not food. Silly boy.”

He looked up at her, and a very small smile pushed up at the corners of his mouth. “ _Poodoo_.”

Leia exchanged a quick look with Fett. “Your Huttese is better than mine.” Her husband complied.

The boy’s eyes lit up, this time he understood the question. “Kid,” he said proudly.

Oh, godsdamnit. She looked up at her husband, who had the good sense not to openly celebrate his victory. “ _Chowbasa_ , Kid,” she said to the boy. “I’m not sure if we’re doing you any favors by bringing you into our family, but you’re welcome just the same.” She turned back to Jonah and started wrestling him out of his wet clothes. “Luke could send Threepio out to help.”

Fett stiffened behind her. “I told you before, I don’t want a machine looking after my son.”

“That’s too bad,” Leia returned shortly. “Because suddenly we have twins, and I can barely keep up with Jonah. We’ll need the help.” She turned her head and gave him a level stare. “This is not negotiable.”

“My opinion doesn’t matter?” There was an edge of anger in his voice.

“Of course it matters.”Leia was unable to resist injecting a little saccharine edge into her voice. “It just doesn’t change anything. Here, take Jonah’s clothes to the laundry bin and then put that old blanket in the disposal. Dinner will be here any minute.” She arched her eyebrows, daring him to argue. “And happy birthday.”

 


	3. Ner Vod

 

"Goran." The bartender spoke quietly, but the direction of his gaze made Goran Beviin straighten and turn immediately. One of the Mandalorian protectors was making his way through the crowded tapcafe, dragging along a disheveled teenage boy in binders. As they came closer he saw the boy had been badly beaten, his lip was bloody and his face was a mess of cuts and bruises. He wore light armor, and the close-shaved stubble on his head suggested a missing helmet.

"Where's the  _Mand'alor_?" The protector demanded, and Goran gave the same answer he always did.

"Busy. What's the problem?"

"The  _problem_  is that this little  _di'kut_  was running books on speeder chases in the Industrial quarter again. Got caught sliding stats and we nearly had a riot on our hands."

Goran frowned. "You have my sympathy, but that's not really a matter for the  _Mand'alor_ , is it?"

There was an awkward pause. "You don't know who this is?"

He looked at the boy again. Thirteen or fourteen, maybe, with fair skin and red hair. He kept his eyes straight ahead, an expression of general contempt on his face. "No?"

"This is Kyd Fett. The  _Mand'alor's_  son."

_Osik_. "I thought his son was away at school."

"That would be the other one." The protector paused. " _Haar'chak_ , you've never met his children?"

"Just a daughter." Goran felt like a  _shabuir_ asking. "How many are there?"

"There's three." He held up three fingers, counting down. "You met Shysa. She's the youngest. Then there's Jonah, who's away at school. Picked him up once for swoop racing in the city, but never had any real problems with him. And then there's this one, who's become a real pain in the  _shebs_  the last six months. How long have you been working for Fett?"

"A few months." He always kept answers vague, about his job and about the  _Mand'alor_ 's whereabouts, because he was never given any information on either.

"You have a way of contacting him."

"A place I can leave messages. Don't know how quickly he gets them." Goran indicated the boy. "He can't contact his dad?"

The protector snorted. "He hasn't said a single word since I picked him up three hours ago. You think you can make him talk, be my guest." He unlocked the binders and gave Kyd a nudge towards a barstool. The boy folded his arms over his chest and remained standing and stone faced. "I tried calling the Senator's office, but she wasn't in. You find either one of his parents, tell them their son has an appointment with the commander tomorrow morning to work out sentencing. If he finds his tongue and his manners by then, there's a still a chance he could get probation."

"I'll tell them," Goran promised, taking another look at his charge as the protector left. "Well.  _Su'cry_  Kyd. I'm Goran Beviin."

The only acknowledgement he got was a slight curling on the boy's lower lip.

"You want some ice for your face?"

Nothing.

"All right." He took out his commlink. "Might as well leave that message for your dad. You have anything you want to say to him?"

Kyd looked down and then his shoulders slumped. "I have his direct link," he muttered as he took the nearest seat. "Could I have some water first?"

"Sure you can." Goran nodded to the bartender and sipped his own ale while he waited. Kyd drank half his water and then glanced up at the holoscreen where a boloball game was playing. "He's going to kick to the corner."

Goran watched, and sure enough, the striker angled it right. "You watch a lot of matches?"

"It's the smart move, with that lay on the field. Most strikers have a sixty percent chance or higher of scoring with a corner kick from the lead line." Kyd put his chin in his hands. Suddenly he looked exhausted.

"So you're a numbers guy. Is that how you got into running books?"

"I guess. I used to take bets on boloball, but it's mostly old men. Not real exciting."

Goran smiled at that. "I guess speeder chasing attracts a younger crowd."

"Yeah."

Goren waved to the bartender and pushed his glass in. "I'll need a fresh one."

The bartender cocked an eyebrow. "That one's still half full."

"It's also chock full of tranquilizers." He turned to look at Kyd, and the boy looked away, staring straight ahead. "You practice that a little more, you might be able to pull it off."

Kyd was silent, back in prisoner mode. The bartender dumped the ale, shaking his head, and Goran waited until he had a new glass in front of him. "If you have a link for your mom, we could call her instead." Unsurprisingly, this suggestion was met with silence. "Kyd," he said finally, "If you don't want me to call them, you've got to give me a really compelling reason why."

The boy looked down at the bar for a few minutes. When he spoke, there was genuine anguish in his voice. "They'll  _ground_  me."

"Okay…" Goran responded carefully. "Does that mean something other than having to stay at home for a while?"

"We're going to visit Jonah next week. If I'm grounded, I can't go."

"Oh." He gave that some thought. "How long has it been since you've seen him?"

"Six months."

"You two are close in age?"

"He's three months older. Maybe. I'm adopted. I don't know exactly when I was born. Mom says they guessed based on the med scan."

"Hmm." Goran moved his glass around a little, watching the liquid slosh around inside. "So your mom stays pretty busy. And your dad is gone a lot. You and your brother spend a lot of time together?"

Kyd nodded miserably.

"So why is Jonah at school and you're not?"

"I don't qualify."

"You seem like a smart kid to me."

"It's not about smarts," Kyd muttered darkly. "It's about being gifted. It's not  _fair_." Almost immediately he seemed embarrassed by his outburst. "I'm not supposed to talk about it. Can I go home?"

"I'll take you." Goran pushed back from the bar and paid his tab. "You'll just have to show me where it is."

Kyd gave him an unimpressed look. "You work for my dad, but you don't know how many kids he has or where he lives or how to reach him?"

"Your dad wasn't exactly forthcoming with any of that information."

Boba Fett's son gave that a few seconds of thought and then shrugged in acknowledgement. "Okay. I'll show you."

 

* * *

 

 

"Please, have mercy, I have a family…"

Fett was well versed in ignoring his captives, and the whimpering Devaronian in the holding cell was no different. He strode past without a word, picked up a few tools and replacement targeting scope in the cargo bay and climbed upward into the cockpit. While  _Slave I_  was warming up, he took the damaged scope off his rifle and logged in to the comm center to check his messages.

Two calls from clients. One from Leia. One from Luke Skywalker.

It wasn't like his brother-in-law to contact him directly. He filed down the damaged mounting pins while the call linked up. Skywalker's image flickered to life on his console, sitting at his desk at the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin IV, and he said the one thing Fett really didn't want him to say. "It's about Jonah."

"Is he okay?"

"He's not injured. I'm not sure I can honestly say he's okay." The Jedi touched the center of his forehead as if he were willing away a headache. "There was an incident. He broke one of the big rules, and if it were anyone else I would be cancelling his visitation, but…"

"Your sister wouldn't like that."

"That's putting it mildly."

Fett was fairly certain he wouldn't like it either. "It's been six months. You said it would give him time to adjust."

"I thought it would." Skywalker hesitated, clearly loathe to say it. "He's not doing well here."

That didn't seem right. Jonah was smart, disciplined and mastered every lesson Fett taught him. He kept sanding the pins, fighting the urge to blame the teacher. "What's he having trouble with?"

"Socialization, mostly."

"That's not my department."

"I know," there a distinct note of dryness in the Jedi's voice. "But I've known Jonah his whole life and I've never seen him act this way."

"What way?"

"He doesn't talk to anyone except for me. Some of the others tried to make friends at first, but eventually they gave up. No wants to spar with him. He's already one of more advanced students, and on the rare occasion that someone beats him he'll study every move they make, come back the next day and wipe the floor with them." Skywalker stopped, an accusing note creeping into his voice. "And just in case you're smiling under your helmet right now, I haven't gotten to the worst part yet."

The Jedi leaned back in his chair and sighed. "They had levitation exercises on the top level of the temple today. One of the other students made a joke at Jonah's expense, and he force-lifted him off the edge and held him there."

Fett's hands stopped moving, and after a moment he put down his rifle. "It's not like Jonah to lose his temper."

"He didn't." Skywalker paused. "He wasn't angry. He deliberately, calmly and rationally decided to dangle a classmate off the top level of the temple. As a warning to the others."

There was a long, tense silence before the bounty hunter spoke. "I assume there's a reason you called me, and not Leia."

His brother-in-law leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and his folded hands against his chin. "There's a part of me that wonders if this wasn't your plan all along. You had thirteen years to train him, and if you were trying to make my life as difficult as possible then you did an excellent job. But I don't really think you planned this. Because I don't believe you would ever set one of your children up to fail." He dropped his hands down to the desk. "You know how much I want Jonah here, but I have to think about the safety of my other students."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm keeping him in isolation until your visit. We can talk it over as a family then. And...uh…" He looked away. "Maybe you can tell Leia about it."

 

* * *

 

**3 Months Later**

 

" _Kriffing...kriffing_  hell…" Tosh Onar was one of the older students at the academy, but the tall Twi'lek was doubled over, gasping for breath. He turned off his training saber, his hand shaking.

"Nice strike," Jonah said from the ground, panting but not quite as out of breath. "How about a hand up?"

"If I...if I can," wheezed Tosh, reaching out. He helped Jonah to his feet, and they both turned to face Luke.

"I see progress," he said with approval.

" _Nar dralshy'a_ ," Kyd spoke dismissively. "He's overusing his reach."

"You want to get in here and try it?" Jonah challenged, " _ori'buyce, kih'kovid._ "

"Don't think I won't."

"I'm done for the day," Tosh said firmly. "Quitting while I'm ahead."

"I'll take next." Cirvinia Gor'ak said from the other side of Luke. Cirvinia was fourteen, and one of the more adept students with a saber. She leaned out around him to smile at Kyd, her long black hair falling over her shoulder. Luke didn't miss the way his nephew quickly looked away.

"You'll have a chance to fight Kyd next week when we do the module on moving targets," He told her. "Right now you have meditation."

"Oooh, mediation," Kyd stage-whispered to Jonah. "Have fun sitting quietly and thinking about nothing."

"I'm going to think about picking up large objects and dropping them on your head."

"Kyd," Luke jerked his head to one side. "Let's go." He had to repeat himself, because Kyd was too busy pretending not to watch Cirvinia leave.

"Stay focused," he told his nephew. "You have work to do. I need the simulator software backed up and all the data downloaded into units. Oh, and don't forget your parents and your sister will be here tomorrow for visitation."

"But I'm staying, right?"

"If you want to." They moved towards the temple, a few steps behind the students. Jonah hesitated, glancing back at his brother.

"I like it here," Kyd said, and Jonah grinned at him before turning his attention back to his classmates. He laughed at something Tosh said, and Cirvinia rolled her eyes.

Luke put his hand on Kyd's shoulder. "I'm glad you're staying."

 


	4. When he had to explain it

It plays out the same way, every time, no matter how many times she watches it. The Hutt laughs, the trap door opens and a man in black falls.

A woman runs out of the shadows. She’s dressed in a few scraps of metal and cloth, a slave’s collar around her throat. Something snakes around her ankles and she falls with cry. She fights, kicking her legs and grasping at the rough stone floor, but she’s dragged back into the jeering crowd.

The Hutt is jubilant, he beckons and a bounty hunter in Mandalorian armor comes forward, dragging the female slave with him. The bounty hunter holds her in front of him, one arm around her waist. The chain hanging from her collar is wrapped around his gloved fist. The recording doesn’t show what happens in the pit, but the outcome in clear. The man in black survives. He’s brought back before the Hutt, along with a tall human man and a Wookiee.

Between the noise of the crowd and damage sustained to the recording, the audio is all but worthless, but it appears that the female slave is the focal point of the conversation. The tall man becomes angry, straining against the guards holding him. The woman keeps her eyes down as the bounty hunter tightens his grip on her waist.

He takes hold of her chin with gloved fingers and turns her head, forcing her to look up at him. She glares at him, defiant, and she tries to turn her face away. The bounty hunter won’t allow it. His hand is tight on her jaw. There’s a visible bruise on her cheek.

She agrees to something, that’s evident by the increased noise from the crowd and her own wary expression. The bounty hunter lets her go, keeping the end of the chain in his hand but allowing her enough to slack to go to the tall prisoner. She touches the man’s face as if she’s trying to comfort him. She touches him with love.

The bounty hunter pulls sharply on the chain, and she nearly falls, grabbing at her collar as she stumbles. He pulls again, a command, and she slowly drops to her hands and knees. She keeps her eyes down as she crawls to him, kneeling at his feet like a pet. He rests his gloved hand briefly on her head.

A few minutes later the prisoners are escorted away. The bounty hunter pulls the girl to her feet and leads her from the room. And that’s it. A flickering, damaged security recording from the palace of Jabba Desilijic Tiure, former Hutt crimelord. Someone found it in a salvage yard and uploaded it to the Net.

As of yet, no one has identified the female slave. Shysa Fett knows, of course. She knows her mother’s face.

She brings it back to the part where her Uncle Luke is in the pit, and freezes on the image of the bounty hunter holding the slave in front of him.

Her parents.

There has to be some explanation. She knows this. She can hear her father’s voice in her head, telling her not to let emotion cloud her judgement, but she’s twelve and she can’t stop staring at the image of the chain wrapped around his gloved fist. It is him. There’s no doubt in her mind. Her gaze flickers up to her mother’s face, the downcast eyes, the bruise on her cheek.

Her parents.

Her father has worked for Hutts. That’s a fact, a certainty she can hold on to. According to the ArchNet, this particular Hutt died not long after this recording was made. A “local rebellion,” was the listed cause of death. No mention of Jedi involvement, but this was before the end of the war. Uncle Luke would have been keeping a low profile.

What was her mother doing there? Was she a prisoner? A spy? The tall man. He had to factor into this. She moves the recording forward, watching in slow motion as her mother caresses a stranger’s face while her father watches. It creates a weird, uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She moves the recording further again, pausing it when her Uncle Luke turns his head briefly towards her mother and she can see his face. His face is calm, but there’s tension in his shoulders and concern in his eyes.

Her older brothers claim there was a time when their father and their uncle didn’t get along very well. Shysa doesn’t remember that.

Neither can she remember hearing _anything_ about how her parents met. Her father is a bounty hunter, but he is also the _Mand’alor_ , the chief of the clans. Her mother represented Mandalore for years in the Senate. She realizes now that she’s always taken for granted that her parents met through some Mandalorian connection, but this recording was made years before her mother joined the new galactic senate. And her father didn’t become the Mand’alor until just before Shysa’s birth. She knows this because she’s named for his predecessor, Fenn Shysa.

She takes the recording back to her mother, kneeling on the floor, a look of cold fury on her face. Her father rests his hand on the top of her head, a mocking gesture.

Her parents.

The uneasy feeling in her stomach only gets worse.

 

 

* * *

 

  
It seems that every year _Slave I_ needs something else replaced. This year it’s the hydrolymphic wiring on the forward thrusters, which isn’t a difficult job, but the ship’s design makes it the devil to reach. After several attempts to reach it from a squatting position, Fett hauls out a repulsor lift and resigns himself to completing the job on his back.

It makes him feel old. He’s sure he didn’t have to do this the last time he had to get under the thrusters.

Footsteps in the cargo hold briefly draw his attention. From his position he can only see his daughter’s boots as they move slowly towards him.

“Dad?”

“Here.”

She squats down and cranes her neck to see him. “What are you doing?”

“Rewiring the thrusters.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I can feed you the wires from the circuit spacer.”

“Taken care of.” Fett returns his attention to his task, but Shysa doesn’t leave. Instead she sits, cross-legged on the durasteel floor.

“Dad?”

“Mmn?” The spanner he’s holding in his mouth makes his reply muffled.

“How did you and mom meet?”

He takes the spanner out of his mouth, his eyes searching the tangle of machinery above his head. After a moment he taps the control on the repulsor lift and it hums as he slides out and curls up into a sitting position.

His daughter is watching him, her expression conveying only mild curiosity. Her hands are gripping her knees. Her knuckles are white.

“Why?”

A shrug. “Isn’t that something kids want to know? How their parents met?”

“Did someone say something to you?”

She gives him a quick glance from the corners of her eyes. “What if someone did?”

_Fierfek_. He picks up a rag and cleans his hands. “Shysa.”

“I saw something. On the Net.” She fumbles for the holoplayer in her pocket and sets it on the floor between them. An old recording flickers to life, grainy and distorted, only a few minutes long. Fett lets it play all the way through, aware that his daughter never takes her eyes off of him.

“It’s not what it looks like, right?”

“It’s not... _exactly_ what it looks like.” Fett taps the spanner against his leg. “Is there more of this?”

She shakes her head.

“Where on the Net did you find it?”

“On an archive site for old recordings. I have to do a report on the homeworld of one of my ancestors, and Naboo is _really_ boring, and lots of other kids are going to do Concord Dawn, so I picked Tatooine. And I was looking at stuff about the Hutts and found this. The uploader said they dug it out of a trash pit in Mos Espa.”

“This uploader have a name?”

“It was anonymous. I could track their residence code. Claims to buy and sell scrap, so they might have a business.”

“Good. Do that.” He lays back down on the repulsor lift.

“Hey.” She leans in as he starts to slide back under the thrusters. “You have to tell me what this is from.”

“No I don’t.”

“You might be able to find the site, but it’s not coded for queries. There are over seven million posts, and thousands of new uploads every day. It would take you weeks to find it.” She drops her chin and stares down at him. “If you want my help, you have to tell me.”

He stops the lift. He doesn’t want to talk about any of this, but he’s more proud than annoyed. He backs the lift out and sits up again, facing her. “What do you want to know?”

She looks down at her hand, running the nail of her middle finger back and forth along her thumbnail. Finally she looks up.  “How did she get the bruise on her face?”

“I hit her.” He doesn’t break eye contact, and neither does she.

“Why?”

“I wanted Jabba to believe that I would hurt her. So I did.”

She nods, her expression sober. “You were protecting her.”

“I was.”

“Who’s the man?” The inflection in her voice leaves no doubt as to which man she’s referring to.

“Han Solo. He was a spice smuggler who owed Jabba money. And your mother was in love with him.”

“Mom was in love with a spice smuggler?”

“When she was young she had questionable taste in men.”

“Why was Uncle Luke there?”

“He was helping your mother.”

She gives that some thought. “So was mom there in disguise or…”

“She tried to rescue Solo, but she was caught. Slavery was legal on Tatooine then, and the Hutts often took prisoners as slaves. I convinced Jabba to sell her to me, and then I freed her.”

Shysa absorbs this. “So that’s how you met?”

“We met before that. I was the one who captured Solo and brought him to Jabba.”

“Awkward.”

“It was a job.”

“Yeah, but…you were in love with her. And she was in love with someone else.”

He takes a moment, considering his words. “Shysa, your mother and I were on opposite sides during the war and most of our dealings were not...amicable. I had my reasons for protecting her at Jabba’s palace, but love wasn’t one of them.”

“So when did you fall in love?”

“I don’t know.”

Shysa frowns. She’s picking at her nail again. “I thought that was supposed to be some huge thing. Like the first kiss or something.”

He shrugs.

“What happened to the other guy?”

“Ask your mother.”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I don’t _care_.”

Her frown deepens and her eyes go back to the holoplayer. Her thumb is bleeding a little around the cuticle. Fett picks up his discarded spanner and tightens the head. “Hand me the tension calibrator.” She does. “In my experience, there’s no one moment of falling in love. It doesn’t work like that.”

“It does for some people.” She looks down at the scuffed floor. “Sometimes you meet someone and boom...you just really like them. I mean really like them.”

This conversation is now officially his least favorite of the decade. “Someone I know?”

“Maybe. She’s Clan Skirata.” Her eyes dart up. “Not related.”

“How old?”

“Thirteen. She has her armor.”

“You’ll get yours when you’re thirteen. You’re still twelve, last time I checked.”

“For another four months.” She pauses. “Chessa Vonger got married at fourteen.”

“You’d have to kill me first.”

“Then I’d be the _Mand’alor_ , right?”

It’s their joke. Fett mimes throwing the spanner at her, and she ducks, grinning. She straightens, drawing her knees under her. “I’ll get a name,” she promises as she rises and brushes off the seat of her pants.

“Good girl.”

He reclines again on the lift and slides back under the thrusters. He gazes up into the machinery, waiting for the sound of her footsteps to fade. “You could have helped me with that.”

“I could also have dropped this wrench on your head,” Leia responds from her perch above the circuit spacer. “You should thank your lucky stars for my taste in men.”

“Do you know this Clan Skirata girl?”

“I don’t think so.” His wife sighs. “She’s that age, I guess. I should talk to her.”

“The sooner the better.”

She smiles down at him. “You did fine, you know. You told her the truth.”

“It wasn’t exactly the truth.”

“It wasn’t?”

“I didn’t want to put ideas in her head.” He hooked the spanner into the cable guard and began to pull the new wire through. “I wouldn’t have called it love. And I wasn’t proud of it. But you had me early on. Probably from the first time you said my name.”

She blinks, and her face softens, her mouth curving into a smile. “That’s so - wait. When _was_ the first time I said your name?”

He gives her an enigmatic smile, and her eyes narrow. “We need to finish this quickly,” he points out. “I have a scrapyard to torch.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“If someone IDs you in that recording, the press will go crazy.”

She grimaces a little in acknowledgement and starts to feed another wire through the spacer. “Even if you manage to find the uploader and destroy the master copy, you’d have to track down every downloader. Shysa probably isn’t the only one.”

“I can handle it.”

“It’s not worth the effort. I’m not Chancellor anymore, and no one on Mandalore will give a strill’s hairball.”

“You’re sure?”

“It was so long ago.” She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and looks down at him. “I can be at peace with our past if you can.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “We were having sex, weren’t we? The first time I said your name?”

He tilts his head to one side. “It was very memorable.”

She makes a disgusted sound. “I still have that wrench.”

 


	5. Cin vhetin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think you know everything about your spouse.

“So this is all you do at these things? Put your back to the wall and avoid talking to people?”

Fett stood beside him, his helmet under his arm, his casual stance betrayed by the fact that he hadn’t moved at all in the past half hour. “Think of it as a job.”

Dyrk shifted restlessly, passing his own helmet from one hand to the other. He’d gotten pretty used to these kind of social gatherings on Coruscant, but usually he was there with other senators and it was more a committee meeting with drinks. He really had no function at an event commemorating the twenty-fifth anniversary of the destruction of Alderaan, other than being his husband’s date, which wasn’t a bad gig in itself.

Luke was currently surrounded by other attendees, patiently answering questions about the Jedi Academy. He was wearing a new robe over his customary dark clothes, brown like the old Jedi robes but cut with a little more _swish_. Dyrk thought he looked very dignified and important. He wondered if Luke would be game to put it on sometime with nothing underneath, and let him take a few holos for his personal collection.

“Don’t let me keep you if you have somewhere else to be.” Fett’s voice made him realize that he was smiling, and probably a little bit too much for such a sober event.

“Maybe I’ll get a drink. You want any-” He was cut off as a tall, balding man he didn’t recognize stepped into his path, and offered his hand with a broad grin.

“Senator Veet, is it? Captain Rox Morro.”

He was wearing a white memorial ribbon wrapped twice around his arm like Leia, which made him another survivor. He also appeared to have been drinking quite heavily. “Captain Morro.” Dyrk shook his head. “It’s a honor to meet you.”

“Same here, same here. You’re Luke’s husband!”

“That’s right. You’re a friend of his?”

“Long time ago. I was an X-wing pilot. We served together on Hoth.”

Dyrk nodded and chuckled. “I’ve heard some stories about that base.”

“ _Kriff_ , yeah. It was a nightmare. I remember the night he went missing and Captain Solo went after him...we thought they were both goners.” The captain made an attempt to clap him on the shoulder and hit his shoulder guard instead. “Ouch. That’s some hard armor you’ve got. It sure is nice to meet you. Luke was always a great pilot and a real nice guy. I had a...I had a bit of crush on him in those days. Lots of us did.”

“Oh.” Dyrk glanced back at his brother-in-law, whose stony expression clearly conveyed that this was his fault for talking to people. He was on his own.

“Sure, sure,” Captain Morro continued, not picking up on his discomfort. “You know how it is, all those young pilots on an ice planet, bored out of our skulls and knowing every day could be our last. Here’s the funny thing though, I didn’t think I had shot with him because of-” He jerked his head to where Leia stood, engaged in conversation with the event organizers.

“Because of…?” Dyrk didn’t follow.

“Because he was all tangled up with the princess!” The captain laughed heartily. “It was before we knew they were brother and sister, of course! We just thought they were _kriffing_.”

Fett’s cold tone cut through the air. “Shut your _fekking_ mouth.”

Captain Morro straightened and gave him a puzzled look. “Sorry? Who-”

“Don’t mind him,” Dyrk said quickly. “But maybe keep it down a little. We don’t want any talk.”

“Oh, there was a lot of talk! And they didn’t help matters any. The princess was real affectionate with him. Buddy of mine who worked in the med bay even saw her kiss him on the mouth. He swore it was a lover’s kiss, but…like I said. It was before we knew.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dyrk saw Fett move, a slow, menacing shift. “I’m sure Luke would love to talk to you about the old days.” He put his arm around the captain’s shoulders and steered him away. “Go right on over.”

“I don’t wanna interrupt him-”

“Interrupt him! He won’t mind.”

To his relief, when he turned back around, his brother-in-law was still there. But there was something different about his stillness now. His face was even more expressionless than usual, and he practically vibrated with tension.

“It was twenty years ago,” Dyrk told him. “I wouldn't worry about any rumors starting now.”

“Did you know?”

“Did I know what? That they made out a little? Luke mentioned it, but I-” That was when it hit him. “Wait, you didn't know?”

Fett didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. His gaze shifted over to his wife, and his mouth tightened.

“Oh, _osik_.” Dyrk resisted the impulse to clap his hand dramatically over his mouth. “I feel like a complete _shabuir_. But what does it matter now?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Right. Well, seems like it matters to you a little.” Dyrk rubbed the dome of his helmet with his fingers, polishing an imaginary spot. “I don’t know why she didn’t tell you, but then again how do you work ‘I kissed my brother’ into a conversation?”

The bounty hunter’s eyes cut over to him. “You think it stopped at kissing?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“She kissed me once. It didn’t stop there.”

“Maybe that was your seductive charm.”

Fett turned to face him. “Leia once made me promise that I would never kill her brother for any reason. That doesn’t cover you.”

Dyrk grinned unrepentantly at him. “Not even in self-defense? Because if you kill me you’re going to have a very pissed off Jedi on your hands.”

His brother-in-law cocked an eyebrow at him, and then tilted his head just slightly in acknowledgement.

“It stopped at kissing, Boba. I’m sure of it.”

“Why?”

“Because Luke is the way he is, and Leia’s not the type to push. Also, I was Luke’s first.”

He blinked once, in recognition. “Tanaab?”

“After Tanaab.” Dyrk nodded in Leia’s direction. “I bet him a kiss the two of you wouldn’t stay broken up.”

“I would have taken that bet.”

“I wouldn’t have made it with _you_ .” Dyrk nudged his shoulder into the bounty hunter’s, which earned him a warning look. “There’s a lot I wish I’d done differently back then, but here we are anyway. _Cin vhetin_ , right?”

“Oh. There you are.” Leia slipped her arm through her husband’s and gave him a knowing look. “Having a good time?”

“I’m meeting new people. Learning new things.”

“So ‘no?’”

“It’s been...interesting.”

“Really?” She leaned closer, her hand slipping into his. “What have you learned?”

He looked over at her, and then shook his head, the corner of his mouth flickering upward. “Nothing that matters.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Hmm.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You’re pretending to drop it, but you’re going to ambush me with it later.”

“I am not,” she insisted.

“ _Haar’chak._ ” Dyrk shook his head. “I can’t wait to be married long enough that arguments spontaneously generate. Looks like fun.”

Leia looked over at her husband with a bemused smile. “It is fun, actually.” Fett didn’t seem to disagree.

“Well, don’t let me slow you down.” Dyrk caught sight of Captain Morro, speaking earnestly to Luke while standing a bit too closely. “I’ve got to go rescue my husband from a slightly inebriated fan.”

 

* * *

 ** _Mando’a_** **_Translations_**

 _Cin vhetin -_ A fresh start


End file.
